DREAMS V: Fathers Also Dream
Sun Jan 05 97
This is the fifth in the 'Dream' Series, coming after 'Every Mother
Dreams', 'Homeward Bound', 'To Boldly Go', and 'The Brotherhood'. I
strongly suggest that you read those stories first or this one is gonna be
very confusing.
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this, and you are making money
off the series, Mr. Carter, so why encourage the legal profession in their
own meglomanical and selfish interests, huh? Let's just keep this between
ourselves, shall we? Thanks.
NOTE: RELATIONSHIP WARNING IN EFFECT. No graphic sex scenes, but lots of
scenes of the effects of graphic sex are included. In my opinion, anyone
and everyone should read this. It's all about birth. It's a little gory,
but believe me, I cleaned it up A LOT! Muldertorture also included free of
charge. Enjoy.
NO SPOILERS that I can remember, but as I mentioned, if you haven't read
the rest of the series, you might get a little lost.
Archivists: Please put this in the archives with the rest of the Dream
Series. Thank you
MSR, Story, PG-13
Let me know if this scares you off any physical contact with the opposite
sex :) vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
DREAMS: V
Fathers Also Dream
By Vickie Moseley
FBI Headquaters
Washington, DC
September 30, 1996
10:45 am
Fox Mulder chewed on the end of his pencil and tried to look
attentive. His part of the presentation was complete. Now, it was the
turn of the other three agents assigned to the kidnap/murder case to pick
apart his profile, make snide remarks about his suggested list of suspects,
and generally cast dispersions on his work, his credentials and his parents
marital status. That was bad enough, but he glanced at his watch again and
noticed that he was now, officially, 45 minutes late for an appointment
that he had sworn on a stack of MUFON reports he would be on time for.
Life was taking a definitive turn for the worse. He would have considered
suicide, but unfortunately, the graphite in the pencil would not result in
lead poisoning, so at best, he'd end up with nothing more fatal than
splinters in his lip.
"Ahem," came the deep voice from behind the desk. Mulder looked up
and noticed that his superior, AD Skinner, was calling for attention. All
eyes turned toward the AD. "I believe Agent Mulder has an important
interview for which he is already late. Agent Morphew, Agent Flynn and
Agent Houlihan, if you wouldn't mind, I think we can finish this meeting
later this afternoon. Meet back here at 3:00 and I want some solid
evidence to back up some of this theory, if it's not too much trouble, of
course," he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. The three agents didn't
even glance in Mulder's direction as they beat a path to the door. And
they were so busy trying to figure out what evidence would placate their
boss that they didn't think to wonder what 'interview' Mulder could
possibly have that would be more important than a case briefing.
"Thank you, sir," Mulder mumbled after the other agents were out of
earshot.
"By my clock, you are 15 minutes away from spending tonight sleeping
in the car, Agent Mulder. You had better get your ass out of here, or I
won't be held responsible," the Assistant Director said gruffly, but Mulder
caught the smile that played at the corners of the older man's eyes.
Walter Skinner had never had children of his own, and had taken on the role
of Dutch Uncle to the unborn Mulder child. Both Mulder and Scully had
come to appreciate their boss and his loyalty to the agents under his
command.
"Not to worry, sir. There are two things I've learned you can count
on in a pregnancy: you are always out of the food most craved, and the OB
is never on time for the appointment," Mulder smiled and hurried out the
door.
Northeast Georgetown Maternal and Child Health Unit
Dana Scully sat in the crowded waiting room and sighed. She refused
to look at her watch. The internal clock that was always with her told her
it was past lunch time. Lately, lunch time meant 11:30 and not a moment
later. The 'beach ball' in her stomach kicked her in the ribs. "Shh, I
know. Mommy's getting hungry, too. Next time I'll make sure to get an
appointment *after* lunch," she said soothingly as she rubbed her bulging
stomach gently. A few lighter kicks, placed almost exactly under where her
hand was rubbing brought a smile to her lips.
Just then, a woman in a pink lab coat stepped in the door of the
waiting room. "Dana Mulder," she called and looked toward Dana with a
smile. Dana glanced over to the main entrance and gritted her teeth. Then
with a shrug of resignation, she pushed herself and her unborn baby out of
the chair and tried very hard not to 'waddle' off after the nurse.
She stopped at the restroom and made her now customary 'deposit'.
she thought.
she quickly reprimanded herself.
Gathering up the sample cup and her purse, she met the nurse outside the
examination room number 3.
After having Dana get on the scales to get her weight and sit down to
get her blood pressure, the nurse said, "Go ahead and put on the gown,
Dana. Doctor wants to do a check today." The nurse smiled sweetly and
Dana refrained from the groan that was toying at her lips. She couldn't
get over how 'chipper' these nurses were over things that would make most
sane women run screaming from the room. she
decided. She closed the door behind her and started removing her clothes.
Once in the hospital gown, adorned with bunnies, ducks, and little
teddy bears, Dana hopped up on the exam table and draped the other cloth
she had been given over her lap. A soft knock on the door brought a quick
'I'm ready' from her.
"I'd like to hope so, but I think they might like us to wait until we
get home," her husband's voice said in a stage whisper. He came in the
room with a big smile and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Hi,
sweetcheeks. Carole running late again, as usual?"
"The appointment was for 11," Dana growled. "Where were you? I
called your desk and they said you were at the Hoover Building."
"The appointment might have been for 11, but we have yet to get in
less than 1 hour late, Scully. I had a meeting at Skinner's office,
remember? The kidnap/murder case that came in yesterday afternoon. The
profile I stayed up all night to turn in 'on time'. I caught a ride in to
town with one of the other agents. Skinner broke it up early so I could
get here."
She gave him a good look. He did look tired. She had been going to
bed so early and sleeping through the alarm. It suddenly occured to her
that he probably hadn't even bothered to come to bed the night before. She
reached out and brushed a finger through his hair. "Poor baby. You look
exhausted."
"Hey, no biggie," he assured her lightly. "Besides, I'm not the one
carrying around the first woman President of the United States," he
reminded her and laid his hand on her stomach. "Where's Daddy's Pumpkin
Patch Kid?" he crooned and smiled brightly at the answering kick he felt.
"Mulder, that is 'Cabbage Patch Kid', not 'Pumpkin'. You'll never get
it right," she teased.
"No, I simply refuse to call my baby girl a 'cabbage'. I hate
cabbage. I love pumpkin. And besides, it's *my* pet name for her, so you
can just butt out. Find your own name for her and leave us alone," he shot
back with mock indignation.
"You are insane," she laughed.
"Told you so a long time ago, but you never believe anything I say,"
he said in a husky voice, moving closer and wrapping his arms around her
shoulders, pulling her into a kiss.
"Ahem. Can we try to do this one at a time, folks? Let's get this
one born before we start cranking out the next one, huh?" Carole Mathis, MD
asked from the door way.
Mulder pulled away with a slightly embarrassed expression. Dana
laughed. "So, give me the good news, Carole. Tell me we miscounted and
I'm ready to go now."
Carole shook her head. "You new moms are all alike. No patience
whatsoever. Can't you just relax and enjoy this time?"
Dana looked down at her swollen ankles, arched her aching back, rubbed
the tight, dry skin across her stomach and frowned. "No. I can't say I'm
enjoying much of anything at the moment. I look like a cow, Car and I just
want this over. I want to get this baby off my bladder and into her own
cradle. The sooner the better," she added with emphasis. "Besides, I'm
overdue."
Carole laughed at that one. "You aren't exactly a library book, Dana.
There is no penalty for being a little overdue here." Carole looked over
the chart where the nurse had already noted Dana's weight and urinanalysis.
"So, other than impatient, how do you feel?"
Dana bit back an acid retort, and decided to play it straight.
Afterall, Carole might be her friend, but she was also her doctor. "Fine.
Really, no problems. No pains to speak off, the swelling in the ankles is
inconvenient, it's hard to do an autopsy from a labstool, but I've
accommodated that. The baby kicks and rolls over pretty frequently. I've
begun to detect sleep patterns. Unfortunately, she seems to sleep more in
broad daylight than at night."
Carole laughed again. "Get used to it. That's a common problem with
neonates. Here, lay down and let me find her heartbeat. Have you two
solved the 'name game' yet?" Carole asked as she help Dana lay back on the
table
"No," and "Yes" were simultaneously heard in the room.
"Yes, and it's Margaret," said Fox with his arms crossed.
"No, and we still have time," Dana said glaring at him. "Why are you
being so stubborn about this? Why does it HAVE to be Margaret?" she asked.
"Because your Mom is the sweetest person I know, present company
excluded and I want my baby girl to be named after her? Is that such a
crime? Why are you so dead set against it?" he asked with a pout.
"Fox, think of what it's going to do to family reunions? I remember
all the hassles we had with a Bill Scully, Sr. and a Bill Scully, Jr. in
the house. I think we should choose a different name, just to avoid
confusion."
"Margaret Scully Mulder. Now if that isn't the name of a Chief
Executive, I don't know what is," he said firmly.
"How about Ann Margaret . . ." Dana stopped at the raised eyebrow that
one received. "OK, bad suggestion. But we have time and I'm not in the
mood to discuss this without the book, so on to another topic. Let's hear
the heartbeat so I can get back to work sometime today."
Carole had been silent throughout this discussion, it was one that she
went through several times a week. She had been listening on her
headphones, but flipped the switch and the baby's heartbeat echoed off the
wall.
"Hear that? She has a runner's heart," Mulder announced with pride.
Both women look at him in disbelief. "What? Tell me I'm wrong," he
demanded.
Two female voices responded. "You're wrong, Fox."
"All babies have fast heartbeats, and the averages seem to indicate
that girls have a faster heartbeat than boys at this stage in gestation,"
Dana said, taking a touch of pleasure at bursting his bubble.
"Yeah, well, she's her daddy's little girl, too and I say she's gonna
be a runner. We'll have her entered in the Boston Marathon by the time
she's 16," Mulder informed the two physicians. he mused with a shake of his head.
He then dug into the magazine's sitting on the table while Carole did a
pelvic exam. he had long ago decided.
"The cervix is still closed tight and thick, but the baby has
definitely dropped" Carole announced and Dana frowned. Mulder, too, let a
scowl pass his face. That meant that they were still pretty far away from
delivery, but it could change at any time. It also meant that Dana was
going to be even more uncomfortable at work.
While Dana was getting dressed, Mulder took the opportunity to sneak
out of the room and catch up with Carole. "Ah, Carole, you got a minute?"
he asked sheepishly.
"Sure, Fox. What's up?" Carole asked with a smile. In the few months
that she had gotten to know her friend's partner and husband, she had come
to like him. He was just what Dana needed and from all appearances, the
feeling was mutual for him as well.
"I want Dana to go on maternity leave, now. But she' being, uh,"
"Bullheaded?" Carole supplied.
Mulder broke into a grin. "Yeah, something like that. She said she'd
work until you tell her to stop. She's already past her due date, I'm
worried that she's going to go into labor out there in the sticks and . .
."
"Quantico, Virginia is hardly 'the sticks', Fox," Carole noted.
"Well, it's far enough out to be a problem if we need to get to the
hospital fast. One jack-knifed semi on I-95 and your fee is blown" he
returned. "Look, Carole, I know you see pregnant women all day long, but
this one is different." He looked her full in the eyes and in the depths
of his hazel orbs she saw everything he was trying so hard to convey.
"This one is my wife," he said simply.
Carole smiled indulgently at him. "I'll see if I can convince her to
stay home, but Fox, I can't in good conscience make that a medical order.
There is nothing wrong with Dana. Besides, every day she takes off now is
a day she has to go back sooner after the baby is born, remember that," she
added with a pat on his arm.
"Can't we do anything to 'hurry' this thing up," he pleaded.
The doctor bit her lip to keep from chuckling. She knew this man had
degrees in psychology from Oxford University. She wondered if he realized
how much like a 9 year old he was sounding. "Well, Fox, my dad used to
take my mother out on really bumpy back country roads when she was
overdue," she suggested.
"Did it work?" he asked, excitedly.
"No, but they got to have some great times riding through the
countryside," Carole said with a smile. "And they even found the cradle
all my brothers and sisters, and even I slept in," she added with a
remembering smile. "Fox, relax. My grandmother had a saying. 'When the
apples are ripe, they fall.' Dana is only a few days past due. I won't
let her go more than two weeks over, I promise. That's usually not good
for the mother or the baby. So we're talking another week, week and a half
tops. Go take you wife to lunch, she's starving." Carole started to turn
away but turned back. "And go take a nap. You look beat."
She turned back around and walked away. "Thanks for noticing," he
mumbled glumly.
Women were entirely too blase about this whole birthing process, he
decided as he walked forlornly back to the examining room. Even his
mother-in-law, Maggie, was being too calm and collected for his liking.
Didn't they realize what was happening? His whole world was changing and
he had no control over any of it. And since Dana was a doctor herself, she
shoved aside all of his concerns as if he was being overprotective, 'as
usual', she had added, which really hurt.
Why was it that he was always 'overprotective' when he looked out for
her, but she was just 'trying to get him to be sensible' when she stopped
him from doing things she thought might harm him? A double standard was at
play in their relationship and it was starting to get on his nerves. He
knocked a little more abruptly than usual and skinned the knuckle of his
right hand on the door.
"Don't break the door, Mulder. This place costs enough as it is and I
don't want to add the price of that door to our bill," Dana said with a wry
smile as she gathered her purse and herded him out to the lobby. She
stopped for a moment at the appointments desk, grudgingly making an
appointment for the next week, after lunch this time, and then they headed
to the parking lot together.
He reached out to open the car door for her and she put a hand on his
shoulder. "And I don't appreciate you brow beating my doctor into making
me take time off work," she said with a serious look.
"Is that what she said? That I 'brow beat' her?" he exclaimed.
"No, as a matter of fact, I heard you. The door is hard, but the
walls are paper thin," she said and then waited until he had gotten into
the car. Suddenly, she realized, they only had one car in the parking lot.
"How did you get here from the Hoover?"
"Pendrell," he said lightly. "He was leaving for lunch and gave me a
ride over here. You can drop me off before you head back out. We weren't
exactly done in the meeting. I can take the Metro home." He gripped the
wheel tightly and then forced himself to calm down. "Or, you could let me
take you out to Quantico," he offered.
She laughed. "Great idea. Then you can get back to Skinner's office
about, what, 5 o'clock. I'm sure he'll be thrilled you decided to show up
again." She shook her head and looked out the window. "I guess if I took
my leave starting tomorrow, I could finish the baby's room," she mused.
A giddy smile graced his features. "Yeah, you've got a lot to do in
there. I mean, I can put up those shelves in the closet tonight and then
you could put away all the stuff you got last weekend at your shower. That
would take a couple of days, at least," he said trying to encourage this
endeavor as much as possible.
She smiled at him and took his hand. "I'll tell Gary this afternoon.
He was asking me this morning when I thought my last day would be. He said
he's going to miss me, since I won't be going back to teaching after the
baby comes."
"Well, you can tell Gary Stands that *I* missed you more, and I have
dibbs on you," Mulder replied, pulling her hand up to his mouth and kissing
it. "God, how I've missed you."
"I know. I got the impression I was missed by the number of phone
calls I would get in a day," she teased him
"I mean it, Scully. It's been hell in VCS. Those guys are real
assholes sometimes. At least Skinner has made sure I had some say in the
volume of cases I got and what I did on them, but I will be very happy when
we can go back to our normal, run of the mill liver eating mutants and
sewer creatures." He kissed her hand again and then lowered it. "And I
could come back to the basement for the time you're on maternity leave. No
sense me driving all the way out to Quanitco if you're not out there. That
way, I can come home for lunches," he smiled devilishly.
"Four weeks post partum, love muffin," she purred in his ear. He
batted her away playfully.
"I can do four weeks standing on my head," he joked. "I mean, I did
four *years* waiting for you to finally succumb to my advances," he said,
wiggling his eyebrows for effect.
"You're disgusting, Mulder. I should never have let you reproduce,"
she said, biting back a grin. "Hey, I have an idea. Instead of knocking
yourself out tonight putting up those shelves, how about you take tomorrow
off? You've been putting in a lot of hours. We could sleep in . . ." she
tempted.
Her husband thought for a moment, considered it seriously then frowned
and shook his head. "I wish I could. But I promised an AIC out in Wyoming
that I'd look at a case he's got--possible serial but they can't find the
connecting link. Shouldn't take me too long, but he needs it ASAP." He
smiled at her wounded look. "But I'll come home right after the meeting
with Skinner, we can fix something quick to eat and I'll get those shelves
up. I promise." She still had her best 'you aren't listening' look on her
face. "And you can tuck me early, too, if you want," he finally conceded.
Her glare turned to a smile. "OK, if that's the best I can do, I'll
take it. If you get right on it, it won't take you a moment to put up the
shelves."
*****
From vmoseley@fgi.net Mon Jan 06 19:02:40 1997
Fathers Also Dream part two
By Vickie Moseley
Disclaimed somewhere, sometime
The Mulder residence
7:08 pm
"I still think we should go get stitches," Dana said as she put the
last strip of tape around the gauze on her husband's hand.
"And have to tell the emergency room doctor how I sliced my hand open
on a screwdriver putting up shelves?" he asked, his voice devoid of all
humor. "You'd have to shoot me first."
"It's been done," she grinned and lightly kissed the bandaged hand.
"There. All better. And there isn't that much blood to clean up, either.
You did a good job," she teased him.
"The shelves are up. You got a problem, take it to the union," he
groused and gathered up his tools. "Basement run, need anything?"
"Yeah, if you think you can handle it," she teased. He shot her a
fierce glare and she grinned back, unabashed. "That little trunk your mom
sent. It's got baby stuff in it. Bring that up, please."
He stopped and shook his head. "Dana, that stuff is mostly 30 years
old. It's probably got moth holes in it," he reasoned.
"Does not," she countered. "Your mom checked it all out before she
sent it. It's mostly stuffed animals, but there are some tee shirts and
cotton diapers. It's hard to find good cotton diapers these days. I want
to wash them up and use them for spit up rags like Bill Jr. and Karen do."
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shrugged. "Spit up rags. Who
would have thought I'd be worried about the correct fabric to clean up
vomit?" he asked no one in particular and shook his head all the way down
the stairs.
After bringing the trunk up to her in the nursery, Mulder stretched out
on the 'his' couch in the living room. The living room was still rather
eclectic in style, his leather couch gracing one wall while her white and
beige striped loveseat sat in front of the large bow window. There was
only enough room for one other chair and after a coin toss, her overstuffed
arm chair won out over his ranch oak chair. A few well chosen throw
pillows and some southwestern touches and the room actually looked homey
rather than homeley. Like everything else in their lives, it spoke of
compromise and consensus.
The TV was another matter. It was brand new, 27 inch sitting in a
hutch that also housed a new stereo CD player and VCR. They had both sold
their own sets and used the money to buy new and better electronics.
Mulder popped in the tape of a football game he had missed working and was
lightly dozing when Dana came down, a small album in her hands.
"Look what I found," she smiled excitedly as she scooted his legs over
to make room on the couch. He frowned and stretched.
"Not more stuff from Mom?" he growled. He was getting to hate the
'little surprises' his mother kept sending them. Some of them had already
opened some pretty big wounds that were still healing.
She punched him lightly in the leg. "Coward! You'll like this one.
At least, I did," she said, happily opening the book and handing it to him.
He saw the picture, closed his eyes and pretended to faint. "Oh, God,
Scully. You would find this," he moaned. His dismal reaction got the
desired effect--her clear laughter.
She leaned over so she could look at it, too. "I always knew you had
a great butt, Mulder. I just didn't realize it was always that cute. I
want to blow this up and make a poster," she teased.
He opened his eyes and looked at the picture with disgust. It was a
fairly good picture, actually. On a soft white blanket, a three month old
Fox Mulder stared up at the camera with a slightly befuddled expression,
and nothing else on. "These pictures are a form of child abuse, you know.
Not to mention child pornography," he grumbled.
"Not true!" she cried. "Your front is covered--you're laying on it.
Just you little bum is showing and it's adorable."
"That's it! I'm calling *your* mom. I'm sure you have some pictures
somewhere that are worse than this and I'm not gonna rest till I find 'em!"
She laughed again. "Knock yourself out. I was number three. I was
lucky to get in the Christmas pictures. However, Mom has two albums full
of Bill, Jr. pictures and one full of Missy," she quieted a moment. "I
want lots of pictures of our kids," she said softly.
He pulled her into a hug and stroked her hair. "We will. Rolls and
rolls. I'll invest in Kodak and Fuji tomorrow. We'll triple their stock."
She reached up and kissed him firmly on the lips.
"Here. Let me see some more of you at that age," she said, taking the
album from him. He pushed himself forward to snatch it playfully from her
hands, when he stopped and gasped, pain written all over his face.
"Mulder? What's wrong?" she asked, a worried frown replacing the
smile.
He rubbed his stomach. "Nothing," he said absently. "Just a stitch."
He looked down into her eyes, so concerned and smiled indulgently. "It's
nothing, Scully. Gas, probably."
"Since when does vegetable soup and turkey sandwiches give you gas?"
she asked, not letting go of the frown.
"Since I drank one too many diet colas waiting for Skinner to start
that damned meeting," he grinned and leaned back. "I'm fine, it's gone.
Now, give me that album before you embarrass me into something more
serious. Like a murder-suicide," he said as he lunged and successfully
grabbed the album. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "OK, OK, I'll
let you look, too. But no comments from the Peanut Gallery," he warned.
Later that night, he found her packing a bag. "I thought you had that
done weeks ago," he teased, coming up behind her and giving her and the
baby a light hug.
"Oh, my bag has been packed for weeks. This one's for you," she
answered lightly. "Just a change of clothes, a toothbrush, a razor--you
don't want the baby's first experience of her father to be 'stubble-chin'
now do you?" She picked up the little photo album and tucked that in the
small sports bag.
"Why are you putting that in there? Planning on humiliating me in
front of my baby girl?" he joked.
"No, I just didn't have enough room in my bag and I want to bring it.
I think it's neat, I like all the pictures of you as a baby. You were cute
back then," she said and moved him aside to get a pair of socks from the
dresser.
"I'm still cute," he pouted.
She laughed at him and leaned up to kiss the stuck out lower lip.
"Yeah, but back then, they could put you in your crib and you'd stay put."
He shook his head. "Not true. I was a curtain climber. By 14
months, I'd escaped the crib so many times, they bought me a youth bed so I
wouldn't risk breaking my neck in the descent to the floor."
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Let's hope she has *some* of my
genes in there, somewhere," she sighed in playful exasperation. "Come on,
I'm finished, with this and the day. I'm exhausted. And so are you," she
said pointedly. "Do you need to lock up?"
"Accomplished. I knew you wouldn't let me back down there. So I'm
gonna lay down in my cradle and let you rock me to sleep," he said, pulling
off his shirt and jeans and kicking them into the basket in the closet.
She grimaced as he missed the basket completely, but ignored the clothes on
the floor. she reminded herself and
vowed that her sons would do better. She crawled into bed after him, and
in the dark, felt his arms go around her and smiled as his breathing slowed
and his body relaxed. It was the greatest power she had ever known, the
ability to lull a paranoid insomniac named Fox Mulder into sleep.
He was standing in a field. When he looked a little closer, it was a
soccer field. And he was positioned in the goal. It was a familiar
position, he'd played goalie on more than one occasion. Usually after he'd
turned his knee on an overly agressive play as foreward. But he'd always
loved the sport, had taken to it much faster than rugby, which tended to
result in broken bones and not merely sprains.
The day was bright and warm. The sun shone down and accentuated the
chalk lines on the field. As he looked out, it wasn't his old team that he
saw, running toward him.
They were girls. Little girls. None of them more than 8 or 9 years
of age. And leading the pack, red hair in a tight pony tail flipping out
behind her, was a strikingly beautiful little girl. Her hair attracted him
first. It was brighter than his wife's, but he recognized the color just
the same. Then, as she got closer, he saw her face. The straight thin
nose, the oval, open face with a dusting of freckles. Then, when she was
very close, her eyes. Hazel eyes. The red in her hair and the bright sun
brought out the green and gold flecks. With a gasp, he realized where he
had seen those eyes before. Just this morning, in the mirror as he shaved.
Those were his eyes!
As he glanced around the perimeter of the field, he saw Scully,
sitting in a lawn chair, talking animatedly with other women. On her lap
sat a little boy of preschool age. Behind her, rolling a soccer ball with
another little boy, was a boy who was the spitting image of himself at 6
years of age. He knew them, these children. He knew them the minute his
eyes set on them. They were his. His babies. The thought filled him with
the greatest joy.
"Watch out, Daddy!"
The shout came a split second too late. Mulder looked back to the
field and saw the soccer ball, coming like a rocket off the foot of his
daughter. It headed for him at the speed of sound, but oddly enough, in
slow motion. Still, he couldn't react. He was frozen, watching the ball
hurtle toward his midsection. Then, seconds or minutes or hours later, it
connected with his body and all the air was knocked out of him with a loud
'whump'.
He sat straight up in bed. Hardly a nightmare, but the dream seemed
disturbingly real. His stomach still hurt from the impact of the ball. It
took him several seconds to draw a deep breath. He pulled up the tee shirt
he had worn to bed, just to see if the imprint of the ball might still be
visible. Nothing was revealed, just smooth skin, and underneath, just
tight muscles. But the pain remained. Gradually, as he sat there a while,
it lessened.
Dana was coming back from one of her four or sometimes five nightly
visits to the bathroom. He hadn't even noticed that she wasn't beside him.
He looked up, confusion and anquish on his face, until he saw her,
frowning.
"Stomach again?" she asked, and he could hear that medical school head
of the class tone that colored her voice.
"No," he lied. "Just a dream."
She immediately turned sympathetic. "A bad one, huh?" she asked and
sat down next to him on the bed, rubbing his back in slow, easy circles.
He shook his head. "Not really bad. Just painful. Sort of," he said
distantly. "Scully, when I start coaching the kids in soccer, remind me to
pay attention on the field, OK?"
She stifled a laugh, but nodded in agreement. "Sure thing," she
assured him. "Are you positive it's not your stomach?" She knew how he
had made an art form out of hiding his physical ailments from her. She
wasn't about to let him get by with it now.
He shook his head. The pain had subsided and was now just a faint
memory, fading like the dream that had invoked it. "Nah, I'm fine. Just
need to pay more attention." He lay back down and pulled her next to him.
"You need to pay more attention in your dreams?" she asked, teasing
him.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, sweetheart. Let's just get
back to sleep. If I'm lucky, I'll avoid any more mishaps before morning."
Morning came, and he was up before the alarm. The rest of the night
had passed in relative calm, but he couldn't forget the sight of his
daughter. She was so beautiful, so vibrant. Like his wife. And so darned
determined. A real little 'hellcat'. She didn't lick that off the grass,
he mused silently. He smiled as he remembered the impact of the ball.
Even though it had hurt like hell, it showed she was no slouch on the
field. "Get her ready for the World Cup," he muttered to his reflection in
the mirror.
"Who are you talking to?" Dana asked, as she slid into the bathroom
door behind him.
"Myself," he replied. "Got a problem with that?" he added, in mock
indignation.
"As long as you aren't answering yourself and conspiring against me,"
she teased in return. "So, where are you headed this morning? Hoover or
Academy?"
"Hoover. I can write this profile from the basement. I wanted to see
Skinner about it before I sent it off, anyway. And I do want to spend more
of my time closer to home these days. Any day now," he said, patting her
stomach affectionately.
"We should be so lucky," Dana gruffed in disgust. "I'm afraid this
has all been a cruel hoax. I'm not pregnant, I'm just really fat and have
lots of gas," she grumbled.
"Don't you call my Meggie 'gas'," he warned her and headed out to the
bedroom to finish getting dressed.
"So now it's 'Meggie', is it?" she asked with her arms crossed in
front of her. "I get absolutely no say in this matter," she growled.
"Tell you what. When I'm pregnant, *you* can name the baby," he
offered. Luckily he ducked the wet towel thrown at him better than the
soccer ball from his dream. "Really, Dana. This is important to me. You
can name the boys, OK?"
"You are really serious about this, aren't you?"
"Margaret--it means 'pearl'. It's from the Greek. Come on, we'll
call her Meggie and nobody will confuse her with your mom, I promise.
Please, Dana. I really want this," he begged. And he used that face he
got that denied her any recourse. When he looked at her with those eyes,
she could not tell him no.
"I get to choose the middle name," she countered.
He threw up his hands in surrender. "As long as you don't make it
'Fox'--you have a deal."
"Ann," she said firmly.
"And what?" he asked, confused.
"Not *and*, doof! Ann. Your mother's name. Margaret Ann Mulder.
And there will be no further discussion of the matter," she decreed and
left him in the bedroom alone.
She didn't get a chance to see the smile that brightened his features,
or the undying love in his eyes.
*****
From vmoseley@fgi.net Tue Jan 07 17:10:47 1997
Fathers Also Dream part three
By Vickie Moseley
Disclaimed in part one
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Office of the Assistant Director
Walter Skinner
October 1, 1996 11:15 am
AD Skinner nodded slightly as he read through the report on his
desk. It was a profile that Mulder had submitted and was about to
fax to an AIC in Wyoming. "You think he's a copycat?" Skinner
asked without preamble.
"Definitely, sir. Not an original thought in his beady little brain.
But that makes him easy to catch. I say the next one will try to
mimic John Wayne Gacy. Send in a young agent with kevlar and a
wire, have the cavalry ten feet outside the door and slam the trap
shut. End of case."
"When are you sending this out?" Skinner asked.
Mulder glanced at his watch. "It's 11 now. I figured I would
get it out to him before lunch. Team meets early afternoon, they
could have this guy in cuffs and Mirandized before dinner."
"Good work, Mulder. I want you to know that I've received a
number of entreaties from the field to keep you in VICAP. You've
cleared up a number of cases that were languishing on the books,
you know. Saved more than just a couple of lives in the process,"
Skinner added, but wouldn't look the agent in the eye.
"Don't beat around the bush, sir," Mulder said evenly. "Go
straight for the guilt trip."
"You know better than that," the AD growled. "I know what
you've been through and how far you'll go to return to your normal
case load. I'm just offering you another possiblity. One that
wouldn't have you out of town so frequently. With your new
responsiblities . . . "
Mulder clenched his teeth. Even though he had slugged his boss
once in his career, he really didn't want to repeat the performance.
"I'll certainly take that into consideration, sir," he said tersely.
"Listen to me, Mulder. I'm not setting it in stone. It's there, if
you ever want to pursue it. You've earned your place in the
basement, I'm not going to take that away from you now. But, if at
some point you change your mind, just let me know." Skinner
shrugged.
"I don't think it will come to that, sir. But thank you for the
offer," Mulder said sincerely. He started to get up to leave but
halfway out of the chair, an intensely sharp pain hit him in the
abdoman and doubled him over. He dropped to his knees in front
of the AD's desk.
"Mulder?" Skinner's voice was almost a shout, but it sounded so
far away. Skinner was quickly moving around the desk to help
Mulder to his feet when Kimberly, Skinner's assistant, opened the
door to the office and entered.
"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully's been looking for you. She said
to tell you her water broke. She'll meet you at the hospital." It was
only after Kimberly delivered the message that she noticed Mulder
on the floor and the Assistant Director helping him to his feet.
Mulder was pale and trembling as he attempted to stand
unsteadily on his own two feet. Skinner refused to let go of his
elbow. "I haven't got time for this," Mulder growled, and then
gasped as another pain threatened to take him down again.
"Mulder, I think I better drive you over to the hospital. We can
call ahead and let them know you're coming," Skinner said as he
guided the younger man toward the door.
"I know what floor maternity is, sir and they'll already be
expecting me. I don't need to call ahead," Mulder assured him. He
was finally getting over the two fierce cramps, his stomach now just
felt extremely sore. He stood a little straighter, just to let the AD
know that he was indeed all right.
"I think you should be checked out, Mulder. Something is
wrong when you're doubled over with pain like that. We should
stop at the ER and have them take a look," the AD reasoned.
Mulder looked up anxiously at his boss. "And miss Meggie's
birth? With all do respect, sir, over my dead body!" he intoned
firmly.
"Agent Mulder, that is exactly the situation I am seeking to
avoid," Skinner growled.
"I'm OK. It was just gas or something. I'll be fine. Let's just
get a move on, please," he begged. Skinner hesitated for a second,
then relunctantly nodded in agreement.
Besides, if you double over there, it's a short ride down to the
ER, Skinner decided silently and grabbed his suitcoat as he steered
Mulder through his outer office and toward the elevators.
Northeast Georgetown Medical Center
12:15pm
"Mulder, I don't think that's what this is," Skinner was telling his
wayward agent through clenched teeth.
Mulder was clutching his stomach and shaking his head
emphatically. "Sir, they're coming about 7 minutes apart. If that's
not sympathy pains, I don't know what is! And don't give me any
of that 'it doesn't happen' crap because I have a drawer full of
reported cases in the base--" His tirade was cut off by a particularly
bad stomach spasm. For a moment, Skinner was concerned that the
young man was going to pass out right there in the middle of the
hallway. Frantically, he searched around him and spied a
wheelchair. He grabbed it and shoved Mulder down into it.
Mulder looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Now, *this* is
ridiculous," he said, starting to get up. Skinner put a firm hand on
his shoulder and gave him a shove back down.
"You have a choice, Agent Mulder. You go to maternity in this
thing, OR I grab a gurney and I take you to the emergency
room--strapped in and handcuffed," Skinner growled low and
Mulder was certain his boss meant every word of it.
"Seventh floor, Walter, and don't spare the petrol," Mulder
quipped in his worst British accent. The AD smiled grimly and
pushed the wheelchair toward the elevator as quickly as he could.
Once on the floor, it wasn't hard to find which room was Dana's.
Maggie was already there, pacing just outside the door. When she
saw her son-in-law, in a wheelchair, being pushed by his boss, her
smile of greeting quickly turned into a deeply concerned scowl.
"Fox, what in the world . . ."
"It's nothing, Mom. Just sympathy pains. Can I go in?" Mulder
asked, not really wanting to take even that much time for
explanations.
"Carole's in there right now. I'd knock before you go in if I
were you, but Dana's been asking me where you were. Better go
on it," Maggie directed and then shot Skinner a look that demanded
all the details. Skinner nodded, letting her know silently that he
would make it all as clear as he could, but hoped she didn't expect
too much.
There was no way Mulder was going into Scully's birthing room
in a wheelchair. He grimaced and pushed himself up. He'd had
worse pain than this before, he grimly told himself. None of those
times were popping up in the super computer of his memory at the
moment, but that didn't mean they weren't stored *somewhere*.
He gritted his teeth and pushed the door open.
The room was just like the one they had seen on their 'tour of
the facilities' some five weeks previous. It was a big room, more
like the few semi-private rooms he had been confined in during his
many hospital internments. There was a single hospital bed, set
against a far wall. An oak armoire was against the inside wall, with
a TV and VCR inside. A big vinyl covered recliner was near the
head of the bed and a rocking chair was next to it. The wall across
from the armoire was all windows, tastefully decorated with mini
blinds and bright balloon curtain toppers. If he didn't know better,
Mulder could almost image the same decor in some of the nicer bed
and breakfasts he had managed to sneak his wife off to over the
summer months. The only items breaking that vision were the Ohio
baby warmer and heart/blood pressure/fetal monitor sitting near the
head of the bed on the side opposite the recliner.
Dana was sitting up in bed, a sour expression on her face.
Carole was watching the nurse tape a thin monitor lead to Dana's
thigh. "Now, Day, you have to stay put. Your waters broke and
you've got an internal monitor. We don't allow you to get up and
walk now. The chance of infection is too great," Carole was trying
to reason with her.
"But nothing is happening!" Dana howled. Mulder had seen her
this frustrated on a couple of occasions--one or two he had been
the direct cause of the frustration, but it was obvious that she
wasn't even bothering to control her emotions. Every nerve was a
raw edge.
It was then that Mulder noticed the cause for all of his wife's
anxiety. An IV bag and pump was nestled at the head of the bed,
and the line sneaked down and into her right hand. He knew his
wife. She would never admit it, but she hated IV's more than he
did. They drove her absolutely crazy. He'd watched her try to
gnaw through one at Bethesda Naval Hospital after their return
from the USS Argent. This called for drastic action.
"Hi, my love," he said and walked over to the side *not*
sporting the tubing and took her into a big hug. She started out
rigid, but quickly melted in his arms. "I'm here, Dana. It's gonna be
fine. Don't you worry about a thing, OK?" he whispered. When he
pulled back, he could see the grateful tears in her eyes.
"I just hate this thing," she hissed so quietly that it was only his
closeness that allowed him to hear the words, but he could have
guessed them by the way she was holding her hand. He took her
other hand and squeezed it.
"So, what's happening here, Carole? We work for the
government and we're very busy people. How about moving this
along a little?" he deadpanned and Dana cackled at the look on her
doctor's face.
"Well, Fox Mulder, I can only thank God that babies don't come
on the government's schedule," Carole teased him back. "We'd still
be waiting for this baby at Christmas!" She turned back to the
nurse. "Start the pitocin. Usual dosages until we get something
going. We're a ways off, but it's still early. We might get this one
done by midnight," she said and winked at Mulder. "Or sooner,"
she said and patted Dana's leg. "Call me when we get moving."
She gave Dana another smile and left.
The nurse attached a bag of clear fluid to the IV pump and
smiled at the couple. "Now, if you remember what pitocin is . . ."
she started.
"I'm a forensic pathologist for the FBI. I graduated third in my
class at University of Maryland Medical School and I did my
residency with Dr. Mathis. I *think* I remember what pitocin is
for," Dana growled and the nurse winced, then smiled briefly.
"I'll just leave you and Daddy alone, then," she said quickly and
left the room.
"And you tell me *I'm* mean to the nurses," Mulder teased.
"Mulder, I was having pains. Really. Real labor pains. And my
water broke. Right in the kitchen. A big splash, just like Mom told
me it would. And I didn't even get any on the carpet. But when I
got here, and they got me in bed, it all stopped," she whined.
"I wish I could have been so lucky," Mulder mused, more to
himself than to Scully. Dana gave him a stern glare.
"Out with it," she demanded.
He winced. He really didn't want to bring this up. He knew
what she was going to say. But he couldn't avoid the subject now.
"I had some, uh, labor pains," he said quietly, intently watching the
linoleum floor as it caught the shadow of his shoes.
"Labor pains," she repeated in her perfect 'you have GOT to be
kidding' voice.
He looked up at her from his perusal of the floor and gave her a
defiant stare. "Yes. Labor pains. Sympathy pains. They were
coming 7 minutes apart on the way over here from the office." He
dared her to shoot him down this time, he had experienced this
himself.
"Mulder, that is completely ridiculous! Men do not have labor
pains. That is an old wives tale, or old husbands tale, I guess. If
you were having pains, like you did last night, there is another
reason for it. You've probably worried yourself into an ulcer. Or
you have the stomach flu. Or something else. But it is NOT labor
pains." To underscore her point, she crossed her arms but stopped
when the IV got caught up on the call button.
"Oh, yeah, sure," he countered sacastically. "I have an ulcer. I
spend three years in ISU, doing profiles that would send most
people to the nearest psych ward and not have so much as a bad
day--" he held up his hand to ward off her barrage. "I said I
stopped eating, Scully, and stopped sleeping. I never had a bad
stomach. Not eating was my way of controling my environment. It
was not because my stomach hurt. But to continue my point, I did
that for three years and never had an ulcer, but I go back for 4
months, an' now, NOW, I fall to pieces. _That_ is ridiculous!" he
shouted and crossed his arm to prove his point. "Besides, it's
stopped. Just like your labor pains. Now, Agent Scully, what have
we learned about coincidences during our tenure with the X files?"
he taunted. She said nothing, but just glared at him. "We've
learned that coincidences are pretty damned hard to come by!"
"You are sick, I want you to be check out NOW," she growled
and the intensity of her glare was starting to worry him.
"Dana, your blood pressure is not responding well to your
yelling at me," he pointed out reasonably. She continued to glare.
"I'm fine. No more pain. If it comes back, then I'll go have
somebody poke and prod me so you can stop feeling like you're so
much in the limelight," he teased.
Suddenly, Dana stopped glaring and put her hand across her
stomach. "Mulder, look," she ordered and pointed to the little
paper printout coming from the fetal monitor.
The needle slowly recorded a gentle slope up then leveled then
slid back to the starting level in the shape of an upside down mixing
bowl.
"A contraction," she said gleefully.
"Shit, Scully," he said with a low whistle. "Now, do it again,"
he urged.
She laughed. "I can't do them on command, Doof!"
He frowned, crestfallen. "Damn, I forgot. But hey, that one
was cool. Tell me when the next one comes," he pleaded.
*****
From vmoseley@fgi.net Wed Jan 08 09:21:58 1997
Fathers Also Dream part four
By Vickie Moseley
Yeah, I disclaimed it
7:05 pm
The contractions were coming in at a steady 2 minutes apart.
Carole finished checking Dana and smiled brightly. "You are 9
centimeters dialated, Day and moving like gangbusters. Another
couple of minutes and we can get dressed in our funny suits and
deliver this baby," she announced. "Any more pains, Fox?" she
asked Mulder. Dana had made a point of telling anyone who would
listen that her husband had sympathy pains. It was a story that was
growing weary with the telling, as far as Mulder was concerned.
"No, I'm fine," he said tersely. He had decided that he would
keep his observations to himself, in light of the overwhelming
majority of people surrounding him who belonged to the medical
establishment. If the truth be told, he had gotten some good
twinges every once in a while, but nothing to double him over. He
had not mentioned them for fear that Dana or Carole or for that
matter, his mother-in-law, Maggie who was still out in the hall,
would drag him down to the first floor of the hospital and start
sticking needles in him. He was convinced all pains would vanish
when his baby daughter made her debut into the birthing room.
He squeezed his wife's hand. "How are you holding up?" he
asked, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt.
"Just peachy," she smiled briefly, then quickly assumed 'the
position' as another contraction came, crested and subsided. With
the addition of the pitocin, the contractions were much stronger
than normal labor contractions, and Mulder was beginning to worry
that Dana was tiring out. What was worse was the knowledge that
the final stage, pushing the baby out, would take all of her energy
reserves and more.
He wiped her forehead with a damp cloth and gave her a
spoonful of ice chips. "You are doing great!" he assured her. "You
know, I've always known you are a supurb agent, but you make one
hellava woman in labor, too," he confided and gave her a kiss on
the cheek.
"Enjoy this time, Mulder," she hissed as she started to blow
through the next contraction. As it eased, she continued. "Because
either you are having the next one, or we adopt," she vowed.
"You don't mean that," he whispered in her ear, stroking her arm
and her stomach to help her relax.
"I know," she whispered back in defeat. "But it's sure fun to
dream." Her grin turned to a grimace and she started puffing out
breaths again.
He was holding on to her hand with all his might, trying not to
hurt it. It hurt him so badly to watch her in pain and he kept
kicking himself for getting her into this position in the first place.
Sex is definitely overrated, he decided--Nothing is worth this much
torture!
She lay in the bed, exhausted, but every time the contractions
would start, he watched as she reared up and took on the challenge.
He couldn't believe she was still keeping up with them. He would
have passed out cold long ago. Hell, he told himself, he would be
screaming for the morphine by now.
He barely noticed the pain building in his own stomach. For a
long time, he made believe that it was just the anxiety of seeing
Dana in so much pain. But finally, he had to admit to himself that
something was going on and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't good.
But things were starting to move too quickly now and there was no
way he was cutting out. He would simply grin and bear it.
He was handed a set of scrubs and directed where to change. In
a few seconds, he was back in the room and at her side. Carole had
directed the nurses to reconfigure the bed, so that it now came
equipped with stirrups and handleholds. Dana was shifted down
slightly, and perched in a way that he had only briefly considered
once in their married life, then decided it was too kinky even for
him. It told him just how tired she was that Dana didn't even seem
embarrassed by her position on the bed.
"Fox, you stand up there, where you were before. Dana, honey,
I'm sorry, but I can't let you push yet. We aren't ready down here.
Just pant, like you were doing, OK?" Carole directed as she quickly
moved equipment into place.
Mulder shut out all the conversation taking place at the end of
the bed and concentrated on Scully. Her face was red from panting
and her hair was dark from sweating. She was more beautiful to
him at that moment than in all their time together. He leaned in
close to her ear and whispered how much he loved her. She smiled
wanly and went back to panting. He closed his own eyes and bit
down hard on his pain.
It was getting worse. Now he was sure it was sympathy pains.
He could see the needle peaking off the scale and knew that the
contractions must be ripping his wife apart. It was killing him to
see her like this and all he wanted was for it all to be over, for the
contractions to stop, his own pain to stop, for them all to able to
rest.
"OK, Day, honey, give me a push," Carole ordered. "That's it,"
she guided as Dana growled and pushed and her face turned beet
red with the exertion. "That's a girl, OK, breath, now, breath, YES,
that was great!" Carole beamed her encouragement over to Dana.
"Perfect! Now we're cookin'" she assured her old friend.
By this time, Mulder was as white as Dana was red. His skin
was feeling clammy, and tingling, like when he'd been very sick for
a long time. The sounds in the room seemed muffled to him,
coming through a fog. But he refused to draw attention to himself,
instead concentrating on wiping Scully's forehead and rubbing her
back and side.
Dana knew something was wrong. She tore her gaze away from
the fetal monitor to look at her husband between pushes. He didn't
look that good. She knew he tended to have a sensitive stomach at
times, but this was nothing compared to some of the autopsies he'd
witness her perform. Of course, then they weren't talking his own
wife, either, she reminded herself.
"Mulder, are you OK?" she asked just before going into another
push. He waited until she was down again to answer.
"I'm fine," he lied. "It's just hot in here," he tried to convince
her. "All these people, too little space," he rambled for a moment
and then shut up when she started another push.
"Well, yippee skippy, look what we have here, kids!" Carole
hooted. "I see a little head there. Come on, Dana, you can do this.
We are in the homestretch, babe and you are lengths ahead. Come
on, give me a big one," she conjoled
"I can't do this," Dana huffed and tears were streaking down her
cheeks. "I can't, I can't," she cried miserably.
"Yes you can, Agent Scully," Mulder whispered in her ear. "I've
seen you face mutant sewer monsters and alien bounty hunters.
This is *nothing* compared to those. Now, come on, do this for
me. For me and little Meggie, Dana. Please. For us."
Dana didn't say a word to her husband but watched the monitor
and waited for the beginning of the next contraction. For a
moment, Mulder thought she looked almost like a surfer, waiting
for the next big wave. She caught it at the beginning and gave a
tremendous push.
"I've got her head!" Carole shouted. "Another, Dana, just like
that one, please," she pleaded. Dana didn't wait too long before she
complied. "YES!" Carole shouted and the baby's shoulders came
into view. Another push and the tiny human was free of it's
mother's hold and wiggling in the doctor's hands. "Beautiful,"
Carole declared. "Absolutely beautiful!"
Dana was crying and laughing at once, her eyes glued to her tiny
daughter, now starting to squall at the cold air hitting her sensitive
skin. She didn't notice that her husband was staring at her intently,
not taking his eyes off his wife. "Absolutely beautiful," he agreed.
"Hi there, baby girl," Dana crooned as the nurse cut the cord
and laid the squirming infant on her mother's stomach.
Finally, Mulder's attention was drawn to the baby. He thought
for a moment that the floor had dropped out from under him. She
was laying there, too tiny to be real, but too active to be a doll.
She was covered in blood and mucus and he couldn't tell what color the
thick shock of hair was, but he was willing to bet that it was red.
She squinted her eyes and for a second, he was certain she was
staring right through to his very soul. And he lost it. He was
utterly and completely in love with this incredible being that he had
never seen before that very second. Melissa's words came back to
him. "She'll steal your heart" she had told him, and he couldn't
think of a more appropriate description of the feelings he felt right
then. He reached out a tentative hand, and the baby grabbed it,
holding on for dear life. His heart melted into a puddle of ooze on
the floor.
The nurse smiled gently and picked the baby up. "I just have to
clean her up and weigh her," she assured them and took the baby
off to the warmer at the side of the bed.
"Well, the moment of truth," Carole said, as she delivered the
placenta. "What's her name?"
"Margaret Ann Mulder," Dana sniffed, a huge smile still
plastered on her face. "We're calling her Meggie."
"Meggie," Carole tried the name on for size. "I like that. I like
that a lot. And I'm sure grandma will be proud. We'll get her
cleaned up and then grandma can come in and see her for a
minute."
Now that the excitement of the birth was over, the room took
on a surreal quality for Mulder. Dana was speaking, he could see
her mouth moving as she spoke to Carole, but he couldn't hear a
word she was saying. The pain he had felt earlier suddenly
exploded again, full force and hit him like a ton of bricks. His
knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor.
"Father down," called out one of the nurses. "Grab the smelling
salts," she added and headed over to where Mulder was laying on
the floor clutching his stomach.
"No, that's not it," Dana said anxiously. "He was complaining of
stomach pains earlier."
"The sympathy pains," Carole said, a note of disbelief evident in
her tone.
"They might have been something else. I don't think Mulder
was having sympathy pains, as such, but I know him. If he was
feeling bad enough to admit it to me, he was in pain," Dana assured
her friend.
Carole had stepped aside to let the resident stitch up the slight
tear the baby's delivery had caused and was now bending over
Mulder. "His pulse is rapid, eyes dialated. Jessie, get me a gurney.
We need to get him downstairs, stat," Carole directed quickly.
"Fox?" Dana asked, tears starting to well up. "Mulder?"
Carole reached over and gripped her hand. "Not to worry, Day.
I haven't lost a father yet and I don't plan on making this my first.
I'll go downstairs with him and I'll let you know what's up as soon
as we figure it out.
The motion of the gurney brought him back to the world. The
pain was still there and he could only imagine that it must have felt
like this for Scully. His eyes searched the faces above him--he
didn't find her. "Scully?" he asked, panicking.
Carole's face loomed a little closer. "She's with the baby, Fox.
We're taking you to an examination room. Can you tell me where
the pain is?"
"Gut," he said simply as another cramp rolled over him. He
wanted so much to pass out, just let the pain take him some place
dark. It had happened before, the times he'd been shot. It was so
easy to let the pain win the battle and just wake up when it was
nothing more than a dull ache.
The gurney stopped and there were voices, just outside his
hearing. He felt so sick, his eyes were burning. He hadn't noticed
that before in all the excitement. He had a fever. Oh god, I hope I
didn't give this to Dana and Meggie, he prayed silently. It would
kill him if he caused either of them this much pain.
"102.5, doctor." Some sounds came on waves to him. He
couldn't hear the answer to that one. He pried his eyes opened and
looked into the face of--a kid? The guy couldn't have been over 20!
What the hell was a kid doing here, he wondered.
"Mr. Mulder, hi, I'm Doctor Fisk. We're doing some
bloodwork, but I think I have a pretty good idea of what we're
dealing with. Can you answer a couple of quick questions?"
Mulder nodded slightly, but the kid was good, he caught it right
away.
"Great. Now, according to Dr. Mathis, you had some pains
earlier today. Around lunch time?" the kid asked.
"Yes," Mulder hissed through clenched teeth.
"Had you eaten anything at the time?" Dr. Fisk asked.
"No, not since breakfast," Mulder managed to spit the words
out.
"When was that?" the kid wanted to know.
Damn it, I thought he said 'quick questions,' Mulder mused
bitterly. "About 7:30," Mulder hissed again. Now waves of nausea
were teaming up with the pain. The whole room was taking on a
greyish color, all the real colors bleeding away.
"Get me a bucket," Dr. Fisk ordered, just in time, as Mulder
rolled over and lost the contents of his stomach. It was mostly
liquid, he hadn't eaten all day.
Mulder was amazed that there was no blood involved. He was
certain now that he had been gut-shot and just didn't remember it.
It had never happened to him before, but he had read enough
descriptions and this sure felt like all he had read and more.
"Mr. Mulder, I'm going to have to press on your stomach. Tell
me when I hit something tender, OK?" the good doctor continued.
Mulder glared at him fiercely, but the kid didn't seem the least bit
dissuaded from his course of action. He started on the left side of
Mulder's stomach, and pressed his way gently across to the right.
When he hit the right lower side, Mulder's world exploded and he
let out an anquished howl.
This time the pain won. Before Mulder faded into soft,
comforting blackness, he picked out from the voices above him the
two letters of the alphabet that were as familiar as his own
initials--OR.
*****
From vmoseley@fgi.net Wed Jan 08 20:00:44 1997
Anyway, here is the last of it. comments are appreciated.
vmoseley@fgi.net. Thanks for sticking with it to the end.
Fathers Also Dream part five
By Vickie Moseley
Disclaimed
It was dark for a long time until Mulder heard a sound. Crying.
Soft, gentle sobs. Just off in the distance, not that far away. He
opened his eyes and looked around. It was night. He was out on
the soccer field again. A billion stars twinkled at him from
overhead. He chanced a look down and saw her. Huddled, all
alone, just a few feet from him, was a little girl. As he got closer,
he recognized her.
"Meggie?" he asked tentatively. "Meggie, honey, what's the
matter?" He crossed the few feet that separated them and pulled
her to her feet and into a hug. She cried softer now, but still didn't
stop. He dropped slowly to the ground and pulled her on his lap,
rocking her gently back and forth. "Tell Daddy, sweetness. Tell
Daddy what's wrong."
"I couldn't find you," came the halting reply in her small child's
voice. "I looked and looked and I couldn't find you." The sobs
returned as the words made the feelings a reality.
He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. "Aw, baby, I was
here. I was here. I'm here, now. See, you can even pinch me," he
goaded and stuck his arm out for her to see.
She looked up at him and let a faint smile break through the
tears. "Don't want to pinch you, Daddy," she said and threw her
arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He had never felt so
warm, so secure. He knew that he would crave that feeling, those
little arms around his neck, until the day he died. Then, just when
he was sure nothing else could ever feel this good, she murmured in
his ear "I love you, Daddy." This time, it was Mulder who was
crying and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. He closed his eyes and
just melted in the warmth of that feeling.
"Get used to seeing him like that, Sweetheart. Mommy has,"
Dana chuckled softly. Mulder opened his eyes and was greeted by
the sight of his wife, nestled in the reclining chair, holding their
baby in her arms.
As he came around more completely, he noticed that he was the
one laying in the hosptial bed. But there were two beds in the
birthing suite now, where there had only been one. Confusion
flashed across his face and Dana didn't miss it.
"Well, they are called 'family suites'," she chucked again. "I
convinced them to bend the rules a little. Since they let daddies
stay in the room as much as they want now, I figured you could
recover here as well as three floors down on the surgical ward.
We'll be getting out before you, of course, but they'll move you
down after we go home with Mom."
He took a deep breath and did his own little internal inventory.
He felt pretty good, all things considered. A little weak, and that
fuzzy feeling always left over after surgery. But the pain was
completely gone, replaced by a dull ache on his right side. "Can I
chance to make a diagnosis, Dr. Scully?" he asked. She gave him a
smile and waited. "Appendix?"
"Ohhh, you're good," she crooned. "I always knew you were
'hot', Mulder, but I usually applied that term to more than just small
internal organs. You almost popped right here in the birthing suite.
They got you in the OR just in time."
"With Doogie Howser doing the knife-welding, I suppose," he
rasped as he shifted so that he could get a better look at her.
She laughed out loud this time. "For your information, Mike
Fisk is 30. He just has a baby face. And a string of broken hearts
trailing behind him longer than the Penn Turnpike. But he says you
did fine, you'll just need complete bed rest for a couple of days, to
make sure no secondary infections creep up. Oh, and you'll be off
work for three or four weeks."
"Family leave," he muttered. He looked over at his tiny
daughter and the feel of her little arms around him haunted him.
"Can I hold her?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Just what she's been waiting for," Dana smiled confidently and
handed the baby over to him, helping him position her so that she
didn't rest on his stitches. "She takes after you, by the way. She
ate like a horse last night after the birth, and then wouldn't sleep for
love nor money. We talked for quite a while, mostly about you.
Then, she ate some more and finally got to sleep. She's been asleep
most of the morning only waking up long enough to eat, but woke
up the minute they brought you in. We've been sitting here just
watching you sleep."
He was only half listening. He was gazing at the tiny pink face.
The eyes were blue-green, but he knew that would change. The
hair, now that it was clean, was the softest honey bronze and a pink
bow had been tied in a length of it. Her cheeks were chubby and
her chin was nothing more than a bump at the bottom of her little
face. She opened her mouth and he saw her tiny pink tongue and
darker pink gums as she yawned. Her little hand flailed softly
against his chest and he caught it in his hand. Her little hand
opened and she grabbed onto his finger, just as she had the moment
after her birth. "Hello, my precious," he crooned to her softly.
"Hello, my tiny, tiny love."
Dana smiled, watching them. She knew this would happen, had
known it since he first declared his love. She knew that someday
she would have to share his affections with another, just as she had
shared a place in his heart with Samantha all this time. But it didn't
bother her, she felt no jealousy. She knew Fox Mulder all too well
and was certain that he had more than enough love there in his
heart for all of them.
"I called your mom and told her all the news. She should be
here in a couple of hours. I told her that the baby looks just like
you," Dana said, not wanting to break the spell, only to join in it.
"Does not," he declared, still gazing at his daughter. "She's too
pretty!"
Dana laughed softly and gingerly pushed herself off the recliner.
She reached over to the bedside table and picked up the old small
photo album. "Look for yourself, if you don't believe me," she
directed.
He shifted the baby slightly, getting a firmer hold on her before
accepting the book with a look of disdain. He glanced at the first
picture and then at the baby. "Oh, Meggie," he sighed. "I had so
hoped you'd look like your mommy."
"She does," Maggie Scully said with a smile as she came in the
door. She handed a locket over to her son-in-law. "Sweetheart,
you should be sitting down. I know you feel fine, but you want to
go home tomorrow," she gently chided her daughter. Dana shook
her head, but obediently climbed up on her bed next to Mulder's.
Mulder looked at the little picture in the locket and then at the
baby. Then he looked at the picture in the album and again at the
baby. He stared over at his wife in amazement. "She does. She
really looks like both of us."
"Who did you think she'd look like?" Dana asked, arms crossed
in a gesture of defiance.
"I was hoping she didn't look like AD Skinner, and with all this
hair, I got my wish," he teased and got a light slap in the arm from
Maggie for his comment.
"Be nice, Mulder," Dana warned. "He sent us *both* flowers,"
she said and broke into giggles as she pointed to the matching vases
set in the window ledge.
"How sweet," Mulder said dryly. He handed the locket back to
Maggie, who set it aside and then came back to take the now
sleeping infant out of his arms. He resisted at first. "She's OK," he
assured her, not wanting to let go of his daughter.
"She's fine, it's _you_ who needs the rest," Maggie chided. She
turned to Dana. "Did you want to try walking down the hall,
sweetheart?"
Dana sighed. "I guess I have to if I'm gonna get out of here,"
she agreed and then shot an apologetic look to her partner in the
next bed. "Sorry, love, but one of us needs to be healthy for at
least a little while," she added and he chuckled softly and nodded in
agreement. She made her way slowly over to his bedside and
kissed him gently on the lips. "I love you," she murmured.
He reached up and squeezed her arm. "I love you," he said
emphatically. "More than I could ever tell you."
She smiled and nodded. "Get some sleep. I'll be back in a
couple of minutes."
After he heard the door click, he snuggled down in the bed. The
photo album had slipped under the covers and he pulled it out to
place it aside. As he moved it, a folded sheet of paper slipped out
between one of the photos and the page behind it. Curiosity got the
better of him and he unfolded the paper and started to read.
The handwriting was immediately familiar. It was his father's.
He felt the twinge of anxiety grow in his heart, but resolutely let his
gaze fall to the top of the page. It was dated. October 14, 1961.
The day after he was born. Then, as he let his eyes follow the
words down the page, he realized that the letter was addressed to
him.
>>My dearest Fox,
When you're older I hope I don't regret giving you that name.
It's your mother's maiden name and an old custom here in the
Northeast. Please don't ever take it to mean that I think of you as a
small red furry animal who likes to trick others, like I'll tell you
about when I read you from Uncle Reamus. And I definitely don't
mean it to be that I think you will end up a 'ladies' man'--I certainly
never was. I was more amazed than anyone when your mother
gave me a second look. No, son, I mean it to show that you are a
Fox, one of your mother's family. They are a very proud and
determined New English family and you should be proud to be a
part of them. You are also a Mulder, and I can only hope that you
will find pride in that as well. This is your heritage, Fox, and I hope
that you will always find comfort in that. It is something that no
one can ever take away from you.
You have to be wondering why I'm telling you this in a letter.
They keep kicking me out of the nursery, you see. They have all
these silly rules about fathers visiting hours. I did get to hold you
and touch your hand before they rushed you off to clean you up and
give you your bottle. Only the best for my son. And your mother
is so tired. You were pretty hard on her. I'll have to talk to you
about that later, but not now. Now, I'm just glad that you are here
with us and that everyone is all right.
I don't know what kind of Dad I'll be. You see, my Dad, your
grandfather, well, he was in the Army and always very busy. He
died before you were born, in a place called Korea. It was a bad
place, but he was there for a good reason. He was fighting
Communism, son. I hope that by the time you're old enough to
read this yourself, we don't have to worry about that particular
horror anymore. I know he loved me, though. Just as I love you.
All I can promise, Fox, is that I'll try. I'll try my hardest to make
you proud of me.
I have some work to finish up, so I can't write too much longer.
Just know that I love you. You are everything to me, son. When I
looked in your eyes, I saw all my dreams. They had all come true.
Your loving father,
Bill Mulder<<
Mulder folded the paper and tucked it back in the pages. He
swiped angrily at the tears that wouldn't seem to stop coming from
his eyes. He thought about the journal his father had kept. He
wondered why he had bothered to leave all that evidence. Evidence
that Mulder was just beginning to understand. Evidence that could
only blacken his father's name. It came to him in a flash. His father
had left those for him, as a trail for him. A path, one that his father
undoubtly hoped his son would never follow, one he hoped his boy
would manage to avoid.
He turned a page on the album and found a picture he hadn't
noticed a few days before. Next to a picture of his mother, dark
haired, smiling, holding him on her lap was a picture of him and his
father. His father was wearing an Army uniform. He was smiling,
something Mulder had only vague memories of from his childhood.
He had his arms around the tiny boy's body, holding him firmly on
his lap. The baby, Mulder himself, was laughing for the camera.
Mulder noticed that the he had his small hand wrapped around his
father's index finger. He let his finger glide over the plastic
covering the photo. He smiled, a faint, sad smile.
"I love you, Daddy," he whispered and clutched the album to his
chest as he slipped back down to sleep.
the end
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com